


Knight of Cups

by manic_intent



Series: Minor Arcana [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Age Difference, Full spoilers, M/M, That postgame fic where Akira returns to Tokyo for university, and accidentally finds out what Iwai likes to do to scratch an itch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 10:01:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10717197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manic_intent/pseuds/manic_intent
Summary: “Not gettin’ right to the point? Kinda unlike you.”Akira shrugged. “All right then. I’m eighteen now and want to have sex,” he said blithely, and just as Iwai started choking on his lollipop, added, “with a guy. So–”“Wait, wait, waitwait,” Iwai yelped, coughing.“I thought you might know an appropriate contact.”“What.” How had the kid—“Doesn’t the yakuza take protection money from escort agencies?” Akira asked mildly. “I don’t want an agency involved with trafficking though.”“Oh.” Iwai rubbed a hand slowly over his face. “Fuckin’ hell. I can’t believe. You just. Dropped that in my lap out of fuckin’ nowhere. You’ve got some balls, kid.”





	Knight of Cups

**Author's Note:**

> Persona 5 is my first Persona/MegTen game ever, and it was a bit of a shock XD;; I’ve played JRPGs before, but never a game that was so time-based. It was also a surprisingly messed up/dark game… fun though, and beautiful art direction. I kinda wish they allowed m/m romance choices… in the end I picked Hifumi because I liked her hair ribbon (shallow choices) and then spent most of my spare evening slots once I maxed everyone’s Confidant ranking with Iwai. Damn, he’s hot. 
> 
> The canon name for the MC is Kurusu Akira so I’ll stick to that. Also, “Munehisa” is a bit of a mouthful to type, so I’m staying with “Iwai”.
> 
> Also, at the point where I finished Iwai's questline, I had maxed stats, so I'm writing based on that. :) 
> 
> **Disclaimer** : Spoilers for the game - this is a postgame fic.

20xx 8/02

Summer in Tokyo was the _worst_.

Iwai slouched before the glass counter, trying to resist the temptation to strip down and beach himself under the AC vent. His coat had long been tossed into the back room and the AC was doing its best, but Iwai was still fanning himself with his hat and trying not to think about what the punishing heatwave was doing to some of the goods. Gods _damn_. Beyond the grimy glass of the shop door, the air shimmered over concrete, baking any soul idiot enough to brave the outdoors. 

Painstakingly navigating online orders, Iwai didn’t bother looking up as the door tinkled open. Nobody wanted to talk on days that were this hot, especially military buffs. Army khaki was warmer than it looked, even the fakes. He _did_ look up sharply when whoever it was rounded the counter though, scowling as the pushed the lollipop in his mouth to the side. “Hey, y’can’t…”

Iwai trailed off with a sigh. Akira raised his eyebrows, as if surprised that Iwai was surprised that he was here. The kid–a young man now–wore the extra years well. His height had made him a skinny, lanky kid, but he’d filled out a little, sleek and lean. Those useless black glasses were still perched on Akira’s too-pretty face, and his curly black hair was as unruly as ever. At least some things hadn’t changed.

“No work today,” Iwai said, with a nod at the empty shop. Akira had come back to Tokyo for college, and, just like before, had effortlessly re-insinuated himself back into Iwai’s life. Some days, Iwai wasn’t sure why. Akira had clearly given up being a Phantom Thief, for reasons he never explained, and Iwai couldn’t really afford to pay a part timer any more than the legal minimum. 

“I figured.” Akira had always had a quiet confidence that was beyond his years. It’d been unsettling to see when he was a high school kid, but he’d grown into it. “I had a question.” 

“You hauled yourself through the hellscape outside to ask me a question?” Iwai frowned. “What, are you in trouble or something?” 

The black cat in Akira’s bag mewed, slipping out of the bag and disappearing somewhere into the shop. “Not exactly,” Akira said, even as Iwai grimaced. The creature was well-behaved, though Gods only knew why Akira liked carrying the damned thing around everywhere, but it still was a little furry shedding machine, as far as Iwai was concerned. He’d be vacuuming the stands again tomorrow. 

“So what’s it, then?” 

“Back room?”

“There’s no one in the shop but you and that damn cat.” 

Akira pulled a little face even as the damned cat in question let out an indignant squeak somewhere from floor level, then pointedly scratched at the door. Akira stepped over to let the cat out, then he closed the door against the heat and angled back. “You’ve hurt Morgana’s feelings.”

‘Morgana’ was a far too elaborate name for a street moggy, in Iwai’s opinion, but then again, this was a kid who’d once decided to throw the gauntlet by running a pirate broadcast over every public digital billboard. “Not gettin’ right to the point? Kinda unlike you.” 

Akira shrugged. “All right then. I’m eighteen now and want to have sex,” he said blithely, and just as Iwai started choking on his lollipop, added, “with a guy. So–”

“Wait, wait, wait _wait_ ,” Iwai yelped, coughing. 

“I thought you might know an appropriate contact.” 

“What.” How had the kid—

“Doesn’t the yakuza take protection money from escort agencies?” Akira asked mildly. “I don’t want an agency involved with trafficking though.”

“Oh.” Iwai rubbed a hand slowly over his face. “Fuckin’ hell. I can’t believe. You just. Dropped that in my lap out of fuckin’ nowhere. You’ve got some balls, kid.”

“I _said_ we should go into the back room,” Akira said patiently, as though Iwai was the one being difficult. He glanced briefly at Iwai’s laptop screen. “Since when did you have an eCommerce facility?”

“Kaoru set it up. Don’t change the subject.” Iwai took the lollipop out of his mouth before he accidentally swallowed it. “So. Uh. You want to… uh. Not that it’s any of my business, but, I kinda thought kids now’days use apps and shit to hook up for free, so, any reason why, uh…” 

“It’s too messy. I just want to know what it’s like. I don’t want to have to deal with everything else.” 

Only Akira. “You are one hell of a weird kid.”

“So,” Akira stared at him keenly, through those goddamned cosmetic glasses that made him look younger than he was, “can you help?”

“I, uhm, I guess I might know a guy who knows a guy.” Iwai sometimes still needed to scratch an itch, after all. Discreetly. “You uh, got any, well. Preferences?” 

Akira grinned. The mild-mannered look on the boy was a mask: Iwai had guessed that quickly when they had first been acquainted. There was nothing shy or docile about Akira at all—the stillness was just Akira running on neutral, assessing, always assessing. Beneath that the kid was a little demon, all sharp edges and far too ballsy _and_ smart for his own good: if he wasn’t also one of the kindest people Iwai had ever met, Akira would likely have turned out to be a real terror. 

“I like older men,” Akira said, and he’d dropped the talking-about-the-weather tone for something with a touch too much amusement in it for Iwai’s nerves, his eyes too wide and too dark. “Someone competent. With experience, obviously. Willing to take orders. Discreet.”

Shit. Iwai pretended to look at his laptop, glad as hell that he’d worn the looser army fatigues today rather than jeans. Either Akira _knew_ , and was trolling him or worse, or… “That it?” Somehow he managed to sound indifferent. “Somehow, I was kinda expectin’ somethin’ seriously kinky.”

“Hmm, research can only go so far. That’s where the professional’s experience comes into _play_.” 

Iwai pushed the lollipop back into his mouth. It was either that or blurt out something he shouldn’t be saying, not to someone he’d gotten to know as a high schooler, not to someone he owed Kaoru’s life to. Even if Akira was probably having a bit of fun at his expense. “Uh. I’ll. See what I can do.” He wished that he didn’t sound so goddamned flustered. “Anythin’ else?”

“No.” Akira straightened up, the mask coming back on. Did he seem… disappointed? Or was that just Iwai’s brain going a mile a minute in the wrong direction? “Thanks.” 

“No problem.” Iwai waited until Akira left before sinking down against the counter, resting his forehead against the cold glass. He’d thought that he’d left all of _that_ behind. Just his fucking luck.

20xx 8/10

Except it did turn out to be a fucking problem, because that was Iwai’s life, generally. Getting in touch with his contact wasn’t difficult, or finding a set of people who matched Akira’s ‘requirements’. Sniffing around to see if they were really safe wasn’t that hard either: now that he’d sort-of-maybe patched things up with a few old friends. Just.

Iwai had been so sure that Akira had been messing with him. Days later, he wasn’t so sure. Hell, Akira was friends with _Kaoru_. He wasn’t even that much older. The hell was wrong with Akira anyway, coming to Iwai with this kinda question? Something felt… off. His instincts were all snarled up, warning him away from sending the text: there was a sour knot in his gut for days. Imagining some stranger, some _paid_ stranger, putting his hands on Akira as part of a transaction just felt utterly wrong. Surely, after all that Akira had gone through, he deserved better than that. 

But it wasn’t any of Iwai’s business, was it? 

In the end, Iwai sat on the information until he couldn’t stand it any more, sent Akira the contacts, and deleted it all off his phone. If only he could delete the whole situation from his _brain_. He cast a few new guns, handled a shipment of jackets, and was painstakingly answering an email when Akira sauntered back into the shop.

No cat this time. Akira pretended to browse a magazine until the last customer left for the evening, then he nipped back over to the counter, hands tucked into his jeans. “Thanks for the other day.” 

Did Akira look like he’d…? Iwai swallowed. Not that it was any of his business. “Yeah. No problem.” 

“Want to get dinner? My treat.” 

“Uh.” Iwai knew he should refuse. Clearly he still wasn’t over whatever the problem was from before—he still felt off-balance. 

“It’s my friend’s new restaurant,” Akira said earnestly. “It’s close by. A french bistro. Technically it’s not yet fully open, she’s still testing the menu. I thought we could help out.” 

“Ah. All right then.” When Akira put it that way, like he was asking a favour… Iwai could only oblige. “Help me close up shop. Never been to a French place before,” he added. “Don’t need to dress up?” 

“You look fine as you are.” Akira was grinning again, the imp, definitely flirting, and Iwai ducked his head and pretended to fiddle with locking the glass counter. Thankfully he didn’t blush easily. Outside the shop, the air was still stiflingly hot.

“So how’s school?” Iwai asked, as they picked their way out to central street. 

“It’s all right,” Akira said indifferently, as though there was no difference between Shujin Academy and goddamned _Todai_. 

“The best uni in Japan is only ‘all right’?” Iwai asked dryly. 

Akira chuckled. “Life’s given me perspective.” 

“That’s somethin’ an old man would say.” Iwai supposed that Akira had a point. The shit that went down a few years ago… that was something that’d stick to anyone. Hell, Iwai still sometimes had nightmares over what he’d seen over Shibuya, of the spinal bridges and the blood rain and people disappearing into ash. It occurred to him belatedly that he’d never asked how Akira and the other Thieves had dealt with the fallout. Akira always looked so unflappable. 

“How’s Kaoru doing?” 

“Wouldn’t you know? I know the two of you talk.” Iwai said gruffly. That’s right. This wasn’t a date. Couldn’t be. “Seems fine to me. He likes Shujin. And your friends got people to look out for him, I think. Thanks for that.”

“He’s a good kid,” Akira said, with a sidelong glance. “Good father too.” 

“Yeah? Hope so.” 

The french bistro was tucked away down a side street, with a window box of tiny tomatoes growing under a glass window. It was narrow inside, with a wooden counter running along the right wall, wine bottles slotted in racks on the wall and a giant coffee machine squatting on the far left of the counter. Tables lined the left wall in pale oak, with delicate white chairs and colourful seat cushions tucked in close, under framed black and white photographs of France. Unsurprisingly, most of the clientele were around Akira’s age, young and fashionable. 

Iwai felt distinctly out of place as they were ushered to a seat by a perky young lady with fluffy chestnut hair and a bright smile, who smiled brightly at Akira and addressed him by name. “Friend of yours?” Iwai asked, as they glanced at the menu. 

Akira grinned at Iwai, and _now_ Iwai remembered where he’d seen fluffy hair like that before, splashed over a giant billboard, in a masked lineup behind Akira himself. He relaxed, and Akira chuckled, scanning the menu. Kid didn’t miss much. 

“She owns this property. The bistro’s a new facelift. But she wanted to be more hands on during the break. Said something about how it’s good experience.” 

“ _Owns_ the place?” Iwai looked around again, more critically. Hell, he didn’t even own his shop: he just rented out the space. This was _Shibuya_. “Wait. You called her ‘Haru’… Okimura Haru?” At Akira’s indifferent shrug, Iwai chuckled, though he lowered his voice. “Shit. Why’re you draggin’ an old man like me around when you got friends like that?” 

Akira frowned at him. “I’m not friends with her because of her money. And. I told you before, Iwai- _san_. I like older men.” And with that, the little bastard rubbed the edge of his foot up against Iwai’s calf, under the table, the fuck. 

Iwai was still coughing and flustered when Haru returned to the table to take their order, so distracted that he couldn’t remember what he’d wanted to order. He let her pick, and scowled at Akira’s smirk when she wandered off. “Yeah, very funny.” 

“What’s funny?”

“You messin’ with me?” Iwai said pointedly. “My kid’s nearly your age.”

“Kaoru doesn’t know why you’re so obsessed about that fact,” Akira said mildly.

“What.”

“The fact that you’ve got a son doesn’t mean that you’ve got to be single,” Akira said, because the brat had no filter. 

Iwai glanced sharply at the other people in the restaurant, but thankfully they were all too preoccupied in taking photos with their phones and/or little hipster cameras. “I’m not celibate,” he said quietly, which was not what he meant to say, a common occurrence where Akira was concerned. Iwai palmed his face. “I mean—”

“Yes, we know that too.”

“What?” 

Akira tilted his head slightly, as though he couldn’t quite understand why Iwai was so shocked, the fuck. “You guys share a computer and he manages the bookkeeping now, remember? I can’t believe you were doing it through ledgers before instead of with proper accounting software, by the way.” 

This was why Iwai had been so resistant to even getting an email address in the first place. Shouldn’t have let Kaoru talk him into using technology. He groaned. “Yeah, well, clearly I had a good reason for that. How did he even…” 

“Some expenses didn’t make sense,” Akira said, with surprising gentleness. “He thought you were being blackmailed. So he asked me to look into it.” 

“And then after squirrelin’ out whatever you did you decided to rile me up instead of lettin’ it lie?” 

Akira blinked owlishly at him, and for a moment he looked… embarrassed, or the closest that Akira could get to embarrassment anyway, squirming a little and adjusting his glasses. Thankfully, Haru arrived at that point with bread, a tiny bowl of pink salt flakes, unsalted house butter and some chatter about how the butter was made, details that Iwai had never really had the time to care about until he’d met Akira. 

The reminder drained out most of his irritation, and when Haru had bustled off, Iwai said softly, “Hey. It’s all right. I’m not mad.” 

“Sorry.” Akira even sounded genuinely apologetic. “I should have let it slide. I just thought trying a different tactic might work.”

“What tactic?” 

Akira eyed him thoughtfully. “Let’s have dinner first. I’ll tell you later.” 

Dinner was great, good enough that Iwai made a futile grab for the bill when it came, which made Haru giggle and whisper something to Akira. He shook his head at her and paid up. Outside, the heat had become tentatively more bearable. “How was it?” Akira asked, as they walked back towards the shop. 

“Still not sure about the snails,” Iwai admitted, and Akira smirked at him. “Great dessert though. Your friend’s got somethin’ special there goin’. I’ll have to take Kaoru there sometime.” 

Akira’s smile faded, his face going blank. “He’ll probably like it. Go at lunch. Or brunch. The coffee’s great too. Haru grows her own beans.”

“Kid,” Iwai began, and when Akira sighed loudly, amended, “Akira-kun.” 

“Not that much better,” Akira said, though he sounded amused again, which was an improvement. 

“Look, I… get what you’re pushin’ at, all right? It’s flatterin’.” 

“But?” 

“It’s kinda still a surprise.” 

Akira laughed. “Only you, Mune.” 

“Hey,” Iwai pretended to scowl, “we haven’t even had a first date.” 

“Really,” Akira said dryly. “The buffet, the sushi, the planetarium, the—”

“… Shit.” Iwai should’ve guessed. Someone as pretty as Akira could’ve have been lacking for dates his age, male or female. He _had_ vaguely thought that it was kinda strange, the way Akira-the-‘gun-enthusiast’ was always hanging around, asking him out, often to places where everyone else was a couple. And he’d had _fun_. He’d been disappointed when Akira had to move home. And then he’d just stopped… thinking about it. Even when Akira had come back to Tokyo. 

“‘I’m flattered but you’re too young, and I’ve never thought of you that way’?” Akira prompted, amused again, or trying for it: he was watching the street, his shoulders hunched. 

“Well,” Iwai cleared his throat. That wasn’t strictly true, even years ago, but hell, this was _Akira_. Someone whom Kaoru looked up to, whom he thought of as an older brother. “…Yeah.”

That hadn’t even been a credible attempt at lying and Akira clearly knew it—he was smirking now, confident again. They were close to Central Street now, close to an entrance to Shibuya station. Iwai tried to feel relieved. He turned, about to bid Akira goodnight, only to flinch as Akira leaned in close, lips to his ear. 

“Hey, Iwai- _san_. Next time you rent that room in Shinjuku, how about you call me instead?” He was grinning as Iwai jerked back with a curse, and the devil was in the curve of his mouth, the flash of white as Akira caught his plush lower lip briefly in his teeth.

20xx 8/14

It took a couple of days of guiltily wanking off in the shower before Iwai finally got around to sort of, all right, deciding that yes, clearly he was a fucked up old man after all who _did_ have a thing for pretty, curly-haired younger men. He spent a couple more days in a state of nervous tension until one night, when he was home for dinner, Kaoru said mildly, “It’s OK, you know.”

“What?” Iwai asked, distracted. Kaoru had made dinner as usual, not that Iwai was doing anything more than eat mechanically as he checked his phone. 

Kaoru set down his chopsticks. “I _did_ tell Akira to drop it. When his hacker friend traced the money and we found out where it’d gone to.” 

“Ah… yeah… about that…” 

“The thing is,” Kaoru continued relentlessly, “he was a lot more affected than I thought he would be, so I insisted on talking to him about it. I thought maybe he had a problem with you uh, being, you know. Liking guys. Not that I had a problem. But I would have a problem with people who had a problem.” 

“O-kay—” Iwai began, pinching at the bridge of his nose. Clearly no-filter Akira was a bad influence after all. 

“So he told me he liked you from the start and I was all, oh, so is that all, and then we—”

“ _Kaoru_ ,” Iwai cut in, wide-eyed. 

“It seemed logical to me,” Kaoru said. “Akira’s amazing. He changed Japan. I mean, he had help, and he’s modest about it, but it’s true. And I think you’re amazing. So it makes sense.”

“No it doesn’t! What even are we… Let’s… not talk about this, all right?” 

“But that’s just like before,” Kaoru protested. “When you didn’t want to talk about anything and just bottled it all in until it got so bad that Akira had to use ‘pscience’ to help.”

“Not the same,” Iwai muttered, though maybe Kaoru had a point. 

“I’m just telling you,” Kaoru said, as he picked up his chopsticks again, “that I don’t mind. That’s all.”

20xx 8/16

Standing outside the cafe in the dark, Iwai wondered briefly if he’d gotten the wrong address for a moment before Akira opened the door, letting out the cat. “Coming in?” he asked politely, as Iwai hesitated.

“Yeah.” ‘In’ was a small cafe that smelled of coffee and curry, not much more than a counter and a few tables with a tiny kitchen. There was a gorgeous painting in a corner that Iwai vaguely remembered seeing before somewhere, and he stared at it as Akira locked up behind them. 

“You actually live here?” Iwai asked carefully. He’d texted Akira, asking if they could talk, and Akira had sent him an address. Clarifying that he’d wanted to talk to Akira at the shop felt rude, so Iwai had closed up early and taken the train. On hindsight, that had probably been a bad idea. 

“Rent free, upstairs. It’s not that bad,” Akira said, with a faint grin. “Free coffee, free food, bathhouse is nearby.” 

“Right,” Iwai said uncertainly.

Akira studied him thoughtfully. “Sit down over there. I’ll make you some coffee.” 

The coffee was good, as far as Iwai could tell anyway, strong and aromatic. Watching Akira work the machine had been hypnotic. There was an easy grace to him, an effortless economy to how he moved. Sure, Iwai had been this close to Akira before in his shop, but the world now felt… charged, somehow, like he was on the verge of crossing too many lines. 

“Good?” Akira asked lightly, folding his elbows over the counter top. 

“Yeah. You could probably set up your own cafe.”

“Sojiro-san said he was willing to let me take over this place eventually if I wanted to,” Akira gestured at the cafe. “But I think I want to go into politics.”

“Really?” Akira was full of surprises.

Akira nodded. “Shido had the right idea, though he went about it wrongly, with different motives. If you want to change the world, there’re only a few real ways to do it. Getting into Todai’s just a start. I’m going to start working for a friend at the Diet as a junior aide once I’m more settled in.” 

“Whoah.” Iwai set down the cup, impressed. “You don’t dream small.” 

“What’s the point?” Akira said dismissively, and this was what had drawn Iwai into Akira’s insane life to begin with, years back. Akira was unbreakable. And eventually, even the world rearranged itself to get out of his way. 

“If you’re aimin’ for the Diet, or higher…” Iwai shook his head. “Hell, I believe you’d get there. You’ve proven me and everyone wrong often enough for anythin’ else. But if you are… don’t you think this is a bad idea?”

“What is?” 

“Eh,” Iwai said dryly, “did you call me over just to make me coffee?”

Akira smiled. “No. And I don’t think it’s a bad idea.” 

“Politicians have been cut down for less.” 

“In the world as it is now, sure. In the world that I want to make, things like this won’t matter. Not what you are, but who you are.” Akira reached over the counter, closing his fingers lightly over Iwai’s wrist. “Or who you want.” 

“You’re still naive, kid,” Iwai whispered, though he leaned over, because Akira was in all things unbreakable, his will absolute where it mattered, but the kiss still felt stolen, soft, perfect.

20xx 8/21

Kaoru started inviting Akira over for dinner, because Iwai’s life had clearly gotten infinitely weird, but Iwai had to admit Akira’s curry was amazing. Better than anything he’d had in a shop. Still, the first time Akira had stolen a kiss in Iwai’s home, when Kaoru had wandered off to use the bathroom, he’d nearly jumped out of his skin. Akira had laughed at him of course, the little monster, but he laid off, at least at home.

The shop was fair game. Akira, unsurprisingly, turned out to be a damned tease after all, always trying to rile Iwai up to get hauled into the back room, but it was better to bide his time, because it made Akira frustrated. It was a good look on him, especially when they were alone, kicking off shoes in Akira’s room, stumbling to the bed. 

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” Akira told him breathlessly, when they were sprawled on the sofa bed, with Akira curled over him, flushed and grinning wickedly. 

“Yeah?” Iwai asked, distracted by Akira’s belt. Iwai’s hat was near the stairs and his coat was crumpled somewhere on the floor with their shoes and shirts and Akira's useless pair of glasses. 

“Remember when I asked you to fuck me and you said it’d take too much prep?” 

“Uh,” Iwai began, intelligently, then he stared as Akira smirked at him and wiggled his hips. Holy shit. “What the hell. What did you even…” He felt down over Akira’s pert ass, and fuck, that was definitely something there, _inside_. 

“I did research on the internet,” Akira said, terrifyingly enough, and then started to laugh when Iwai swore and flipped them over, stripping Akira of his jeans and underwear and pushing his thighs open. The toy was large and gray, the same colour as Iwai’s favourite coat, and Iwai groaned, ducking his head and taking in a slow breath, pressing the heel of his palm against his cock. 

“You’re gonna kill me.” 

Akira hummed, unrepentant, and caught the back of Iwai’s neck when Iwai leaned down for a taste. “Later. Business first.” 

“Pushy,” Iwai breathed, but he obeyed, reaching down, nudging his thumb over Akira’s stretched hole. Akira gasped, hands clenching tight on the sheets and over Iwai’s neck, then he growled as Iwai teasingly pressed the toy deeper. 

“ _Mune_.”

“Patience.”

Akira sniffed. “If I believed in ‘patience’ we’d still be at the kissing and heavy petting stage.” 

True. Still. Iwai leaned over for a kiss, and grunted in surprise as Akira twisted up instead, pulling him down, reversing them. He grinned sharply, then kissed Iwai, mauling him, teeth everywhere, a subtle punishment that Iwai gladly took. There wasn’t much that he wouldn’t gladly take from Akira, and Akira probably knew it. Akira fumbled between them for a moment, removing the toy, then he was uncapping something that he scooped out from under the pillows. 

“Hey,” Iwai yelped, jerking back when Akira curled slicked fingers over his cock, stroking urgently. “Aren’t you forgettin’ somethin’?”

“Like what?” Akira asked, with a look of faux innocence. 

“Condoms?” 

“We’re both clean,” Akira said matter-of-factly, “I did the research. The place you used to hook up needed clients to submit up-to-date certificates.” 

“You… and your friends… really scare me sometimes,” Iwai muttered, without any real irritation, then he was moaning and struggling to stay still as Akira merely smirked at him and started to sink down, awkward at first until he found his balance. And. Hell, watching this gorgeous young man taking in a cock, frowning in concentration while nibbling on his lip… Iwai bit down on a whine, trying to think of ledgers, of incoming stock, anything to keep his head above water. Even with prep, Akira was punishingly tight. It felt incredible.

“You all right?” Iwai managed to gasp, when Akira ground down the rest of the way, inch by inch. He had his hands over Akira’s elegant hips, and there’d probably be bruises tomorrow, but given the satisfied little smirk that Akira shot him, it didn’t look like that was going to be an issue. “Takin’ that as a yes.” 

“Iwai- _san_ ,” Akira said dryly, his breath hitching a little, “it only took me _years_ to get to this point. Yes, I’m ‘all right’.”

“Tch. No need to be so smug.” Iwai pinched Akira’s ass, just to make him yelp and scowl. “Take… aah fuck… take your time. Got to adjust. Sure you’re all right?”

“Hurts more than I thought it would,” Akira said thoughtfully, in between little breathy gasps that went straight to Iwai’s cock.

“Ah, we don’t have to rush—”

“But I like it,” Akira cut in, the devil in his smile again, and laughed at whatever he saw in Iwai’s face. The smugness only disappeared when Akira was finally comfortable enough to move; Akira dug his nails into Iwai’s arms and rocked at first, tentatively, then he lifted himself up an inch and ground down, gasping as Iwai hissed and jerked. 

“Fuck!”

“Liked that?” Akira breathed, grinning as he did it again, arching, because the Gods forbid Akira did anything without showing off. 

“You little… ngh… shift a little, kinda like… yeah, that’s better,” Iwai growled, as Akira finally found an angle that made him blink and moan. “C’mon, then,” he said, slapping Akira’s ass, and Akira glowered at him but obliged, riding him awkwardly at first, then viciously, until the sofa bed was groaning and creaking and they were sticky with sweat. He was getting close. Akira pinned his wrist down when Iwai reached for his cock, grinning breathlessly, his thighs already trembling from the effort of keeping pace, teeth bared.

“Come on, Mune,” Akira hissed challengingly, digging his nails sharply into Iwai’s skin, and somehow that was the last straw, the pain, Akira grinding down; Iwai bucked up with a shout that he couldn’t bite down in time. 

Dazed, Iwai tried to catch his breath, sinking down against the sheets, and Akira grinned at him, holding tight to the base of his own cock. At Iwai’s confused frown, Akira pulled free, albeit shakily, then he laughed as Iwai somehow managed the presence of mind and strength to flip them over. He’d barely gotten the tip of Akira’s cock in his mouth when Akira was coming, clawing at Iwai’s shoulders, then moaning his name as he swallowed. 

“Your place doesn’t have a shower,” Iwai complained afterwards, as they cleaned up the best they could with what they had.

“The bathhouse around the corner doesn’t have anyone in at this time of night,” Akira said thoughtfully, then added, “I’ve thought about having you in there before.” He laughed when Iwai sputtered, smug again as Iwai kissed him to shut him up.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> god I must have marathoned this game @_@ It still took so much longer than I thought it would.
> 
> \--  
> twitter: manic_intent  
> tumblr: manic-intent


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